


pages unread

by shairiru



Series: For MidoAka Month 2015 [3]
Category: Kuroko no Basuke | Kuroko's Basketball
Genre: Gen, Ghosts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-09
Updated: 2015-06-09
Packaged: 2018-04-03 15:03:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4105219
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shairiru/pseuds/shairiru
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They were two different souls who had the same passion of discovering the world.</p><p>For MidoAka Month. 3: Passion/Dreams</p>
            </blockquote>





	pages unread

**Author's Note:**

  * For [deusreks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/deusreks/gifts).



> Inspired from one of the stories Midorima wrote in Rea’s [Never seen the world like the one on your sleeve](http://shintaroux.tumblr.com/post/119098651433/midorima-akashi-never-seen-the-world-like-the), so I dedicate this to her :’)

 

 

 

He had come to consciousness knowing nothing. Not his name, nor his face. There wasn’t a single image of memory in his mind. He had found a mirror in the old house he woke up in, but he had seen no reflection. That was when he realized he was no part of that world anymore.

 

A _ghost_ , that was the word that came into his mind. That was the word he identified himself to be. And that old wooden house was what he called home.

 

For years, he had watched the leaves grow and wither, he had watched the snow fall and melt, he had watched the sun rise and set. His eyes had only reached the farthest tree in the forest and nothing else beyond. His feet had only touched the wooden floor of the patio and not a centimeter more. His voice had been heard by no one but the crickets and birds that chirp outside his doors. The world was an endless, repetitive cycle, and he was all alone.

 

–

 

There was a time he wondered if ghosts can ever die, because he very much wanted to.

 

–

 

It was another year, what exactly he did not know because he had long stopped counting, when a particularly strong storm ravaged the forest. He stayed on one corner of the house, listening to the howls of the wind. He wished he could sleep at times like this, but being a ghost robbed him of that ability. Just one of many others.

 

The door suddenly flew open and a person stood before it, drenched and breathless. The person’s eyes roamed the house until it landed on him. A look of surprise spread on his face, and when he opened his mouth, he said:

 

“You’re a ghost.”

 

To which he replied:

 

“You might want to change your clothes.”

  
–

 

“Can I ask...how did you die?” the person suddenly asked him after he had changed into a new set of clothes. His wet ones laid on the floor, creating a small puddle of water. The water creeped on the ground, washing away the layers of dust that accumulated over the years.

 

“I don’t know. I can’t remember.”

 

“You have no memories?”

 

“Nothing at all.”

 

The person looked at him with narrowed eyes, and his lips were twisted to the side.

 

“Can I give you name?”

 

“A name?”

 

“So that it’ll be easier to talk to you. The storm doesn’t look like it’s going to pass soon, so I will have to stay the night here. If you would allow, of course. There is nothing left to do but talk with you.”

 

“A name would be fine,” he answered, “And so is the company.”

 

“I’m Akashi, by the way,” the person smiled at him, “Can I call you Midorima?”

 

“ _Midorima_?Why that name?”

 

“Your eyes and hair are a forest green. It’d be an easy name to remember with all the tress around here.”

 

“I..didn’t know that,” he weaved his fingers through his hair.

 

“What? How can you not know the color of your own hair and your own eyes?”

 

“I can’t see myself in mirrors. I have no idea how I look, I only know that I’ve got these,” he pushed up the glasses that he had been wearing ever since.

 

“That’s strange. Well, let’s change that, shall we?” he grabbed his bag from behind him and pulled out a small box and a sketchpad. “This will be quick. Can you face me and stay still?”

 

He faced Akashi and watched as his hands moved fluidly over the sketch pad. Their eyes would meet every time Akashi looked up. If he would think about it, Akashi’s eyes and hair were actually as red as his name, and it was a burning flame in the dreary old house.

 

For many minutes, only the sound of the pouring rain, rumbling thunder, and scratching pen on paper filled the air. There was something calming in watching Akashi draw. It was as if he was bringing color to a grey world.

 

“There,” Akashi raised the sketch pad over his head, his lips in a wide smile, “It’s pretty decent. What do you think?”

 

He showed him the sketch, and he saw a boy with tousled green hair that reached past his ears, a pair of equally green eyes hidden beyond his spectacles, pale lips and an even paler skin.

 

“You’re good.”

 

“Thank you. I’m on my third year in art school, I try my best,” he looked at his drawing and frowned a little, “Although I think I should have made your nose a little sharper...do you want to keep this?”

 

“No. I’m glad that I know how I look now, but I think that sketch is better with you. That would just get molds here.”

 

“Ah, that’s true. It would be a shame if your face gets ruined. You do look nice, you know.”

 

“Thank you,” he looked down on his hands and squeezed them together. He suddenly felt scared for no reason. His world had just been intruded, and it was an opportunity he should take advantage of. “Will you tell me more about the outside? I...I’ve never been able to go out here ever since. I want to know about the world.”

 

“Well it seems that my coming here isn’t all by an accident,” he smiles, “Did you know I love traveling? I’ve been all over many places, though I have to admit there are even more to be discovered. There was this old garden in the next town over. There was a hidden room beneath the toolshed and I found the most exquisite thing.”

 

He watched fondly as Akashi told him about the world, and somehow, there were stars in his eyes.

 

–

 

“Basically, you found yourself in this house, and has been...staying here for many years, and you’ve never stepped out?”

 

After Akashi had just told him about his travels, he made him tell his existence as a ghost. It felt surreal, having to talk about how he felt and how he saw the only part of the world his eyes can reach. Yet, there was a certain comfort in actually being able to talk with someone.

 

“More of I  _can’t_  step out. Every time I try, some invisible force stops me from doing so.”

 

“Have you tried exploring this house, then? I mean, you probably didn’t wake up right here for no reason. You might have actually lived in here before.”

 

“I did a long time ago. But I really can’t touch a single object, so it was useless.”

 

And so, Akashi led him around the house as if it was his own. He turned all that he can turn over and opened those that he can open. Midorima just stood behind him, observing quietly. Since he cannot touch and hold objects, it was the only thing he can do. Dust formed clouds all over, and by the time Akashi was done, he was sneezing nonstop.

 

“How is this house so empty?” he lied down on the wooden cot he found on the second floor of the house and stared at the ceiling, “Haunted houses are supposed to be exciting...they say.”

 

“Too bad you’ve gotten a boring ghost that is me.”

 

“No, you’re actually pretty interesting, Midorima. I think you don’t look the part as a scary ghost.”

 

“Thank you.”

 

“I feel bad, though,” Akashi turned to face him, “Ghosts exist because there is something they have yet to accomplish. What could it be that’s holding you a prisoner here?”

 

“Well, I cannot know that, can I? Does that mean I can never rest in peace?”

 

Akashi shook his head.

 

“I won’t allow that.”

 

–

 

The storm had stopped when Akashi opened his eyes. Pale yellow sunlight streamed through the windows, and Midorima was nowhere in sight. He jolted up and went down, calling out his name.

 

“Good morning.”

 

He turned to the soft voice and found him standing outside the patio, the sun making him look more ethereal than he already was.

 

“I thought you were gone,” he told him, his lips a thin line.

 

“It’s you who will be gone soon, you know.”

 

The skies were filled with white, feathery clouds and the land was moist from the morning dew and the rain that had passed.

 

“I will be back,” he looked at Midorima, his eyes a pair of burning resolution, “And I will show you how the world looks outside.”

 

–

 

When Akashi left, his world has somehow turned bleak gray. He knew that no rational human would ever return for a ghost, but he had a feeling Akashi wasn’t rational. And so he held on to his promise that he will be back.

 

–

 

Six seasons had passed.

He had started counting since Akashi left.

Maybe it was time to stop.

 

–

 

The leaves had turned red and orange, and many have started to fall. He was staring at the corner of the ceiling, watching a particularly larger than average spider spin its webs around a moth it just caught, when the door flew open.

 

Akashi stood on the doorway, his hair longer than he remembered, his eyes wide and his lips turned up into a wide smile. On his back was a large bag, and he was carrying two more in his hands.

 

“Akashi!”

 

“Midorima, you’re still here. Thank goodness,” he put the bags down on the floor gently,  “Now don’t look at me like I’m the ghost between the two of us.”

 

“I thought you weren’t coming back.”

 

“Didn’t I say I will be back? And that I will show you the world outside?” he pulled out a sketchpad from his bag and spread it open before the two of them, “Look. These are the places I traveled to while I was away. I think you’ll love them.”

 

He was on his knees at once, eyeing the first page of the sketchpad intently. The sky was streaked purple and yellow, and a long stretch of sunflowers covered the field. On the far right, hills towered over the grasslands.

 

Akashi sat next to him and turned the page. Now, he saw beds of fluffy clouds floating over one another. Green trees surround him below, and he felt as if he was flying.

 

“It was pretty cold there,” Akashi told him, “But the food is really excellent.”

 

“Were the people nice?”

 

“They were.”

 

He turned to the next page and there was the image of the sea, a wave crashing against a boulder, and a kid in a colorful swimsuit building a sand castle. The sky was purple and orange, and the sun was setting beyond the horizon. The white sand glittered, somehow.

 

“They’re gorgeous,” he whispered, “I can’t believe I had to forget how beautiful the world looked.”

 

Akashi let out a satisfied smile.

 

“Check out the next page.”

 

He turned it, and Midorima’s eyes widened even more. The page was dark blue, filled with a multitude of colors. It was a view underneath the sea where he can watch the corals and seaweeds and sea stars and fishes below. There was an illusion of sunlight passing through the waters, and he felt as if he was actually in the sea.

 

It felt real.

 

“Did you...,” he looked at Akashi in a different light, “Did you just travel to draw all these?”

 

“Not just that.” He turned over the bag, and a dozen more sketchpads fell onto the floor, “I present to you...the world.”

 

– – –

 

When Akashi returned to the city, there was one goal in his mind: to bring Midorima to rest.

 

His grandfather had told him that people were given gifts to be used for the greater good, and he had lived on that principle ever since. As a boy, he had met a lot of spirits and helped them get to the other side. Midorima is no different.

 

The smell of old books greeted him as he entered the city library. He went directly to the librarian, Midorima’s sketch on his hand.

 

“Seijuurou!” the old librarian called him by his name, “Have you been traveling again?”

 

“Yes, madam,” he grinned. “The world, as usual, has lain itself bare for me to wander.”

 

“Met some lost souls?”

 

“Quite literally,” he bent his neck to the side, showing her his sketch of Midorima, “Is this a familiar face to you?”

 

The librarian’s eyes widened in recognition.

 

“I think have seen him before,” she stepped down from her stool and beckoned Akashi to follow, “I‘ve just been looking at the old yearbooks last week. I remember that face, it was quite distinct.”

 

They reached the farthest corner of the library where stacks and stacks of yearbooks from all batches of all the schools in their town were placed. And given the rich history of their place, it wasn’t a surprise to have every single thing kept intact.

 

“Year 1956. That’s the batch that met a tragedy,” she tiptoed and pulled out a yearbook form the third shelf, “They were on a field trip up on the mountains, they said, when an earthquake struck this town. It was just after a few days of rain, too, and the land wasn’t quite compact. Many of them died, and it was really terrible. Here, you should find that face inside this book.”

 

Akashi reached for it and opened it carefully. The pages were yellowed and it smelled of memories and nostalgia. He turned the pages and scanned them, searching for Midorima’s face. The pages were filled with grayscale pictures of people who had lived in another time, enjoying each other’s company, doing school activities. Despite the difference in their generation, Akashi was reminded of his own high school days.

 

He reached the part where the graduation pictures of every student were lined up, and not for long, he sees a familiar pair of glasses.

 

_Midorima Shintarou. Class Valedictorian._

_“The world is a book and I am ready to discover each new page it has to offer.”_

 

“This is him. This is... _Midorima,”_ his eyes widened in surprise, “I got his name right.”

 

“Ah, the class valedictorian. I think I’ve read an old newspaper about his body being found three weeks after the earthquake. He was buried deep in the rubbles. What a pity, really. There was so much hope for his future. Here,” she turned the pages, “Look at his accomplishments.”

 

Akashi read through the long list and he can’t help but think that he was very much alike with Midorima. If they happened to live at the same time and study at the same school, they would have been academic rivals and probably good friends.

 

“His soul is still trapped in an old house up in the mountains. I’m going to help him get out and have peace.”

 

“How do you plan to do that?”

 

“Easy,” he smiled, returning to the page where Midorima’s picture was on and tracing his finger over the statement he had quoted, “I will show him this world’s many chapters.”

 

– – –

 

By the time that Akashi was on the second to the last page of the last sketchpad, Midorima was already too transparent to be seen clearly. However, his eyes remained as piercing, and that was how Akashi was assured he was still there with him.

 

“You’re almost gone,” he remarked, stalling from turning to the last page. Somehow, he knew that if he finally did that, Midorima would disappear.

 

Midorima raised his arms up in the air. An expression Akashi can’t quite decipher crossed his face.

 

“Did you know this will happen?”

 

“I did,” he admitted, “I looked for a trace of you in the city, and I did find out who you are. I got your surname right, did you know?”

 

He brought out the yearbook from his bag and opened to the page where Midorima’s face was on. He laid it on the floor.

 

“ _‘The world is a book and I am ready to discover each new page it has to offer’._  The moment I have read your words, I knew what kept you bound in this place for so long. You died without having stepped out into the world, and that was why you can’t move on. Your heart still wanted to see it. And it is fate that brought me here, a wandering soul, to help you see the world albeit in a different way. I travelled the past two years, searching for the most wonderful places to show you.

 

“I want you to know that the moment I turn to the last page, you will be free. You will be gone. So I’m telling you right now that I am grateful to have come across you, because I wouldn’t have seen these places either if it wasn’t for you.”

 

Midorima looked at him, his green eyes shining like small pools of ponds.

 

“Why have you done so much for a stranger like me?”

 

“Because I saw myself in you. I’ve never seen much beyond traveling until I read your words. I got inspired, really. The world is a book. Every place is a new chapter, waiting to be read. And some places are still waiting to be written. I’ve shown you as much pages as I can, and I will live on with your goal of discovering new pages. And you, on the other hand, will enter a completely different book, and I want this book, right here, to guide you in your new journey.”

 

“I am thankful too, you know,” Midorima answered, his voice wavering, “I thought I was destined to be all alone until the world rots away around me. You changed that, and I’m happy to leave with seeing the world through your eyes.”

 

“Then I’ve accomplished my goal,” he returned his hand to the sketchpad, “Shall I turn the page now?”

 

“Wait,” Midorima reached out to him and he felt an icy grip around his hands, “Can you promise me one thing?”

 

“What is it?”

 

“One day, shall we travel together?”

 

Akashi looked at him quietly, thinking that for it to happen, then he had to die first. Midorima must have known that he had to wait for a long time, but he still looked eager.

 

“Yes,” Akashi smiled, looking forward to their promise,  “Let’s do that,  _Shintarou_.”

 

“Just call me Midorima. That’s the name you first gave me, after all.”

 

“Midorima,” the name suddenly sounded of the green expanse of a lonely forest in the middle of nowhere.

 

“Until next time, Akashi.”

 

He turned the last page, and it was the old house as seen from outside. It was the closest place Midorima could have gone to from inside, yet it was the most unreachable. It just seemed fitting that it will be the last view he would have to see before he goes.

 

A cold wind blew, and the pages of the scattered sketchbooks fluttered.

 

When Akashi turned to look, Midorima was no more.

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
